


limbo

by roserade



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: F/F, One Shot, confession sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roserade/pseuds/roserade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air is heavy with the weight of summer ahead, and Maki doesn’t know what to make of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	limbo

 

There has to be something that can be said about calendars and their ability to mark previously arbitrary dates into occasions that matter. April is the fourth month of the year but the first of many; there is the first and then eighteen days after before edging its way to May, but now she is seventeen and staring at herself in the mirror with a shaky conviction of some fresh new start.

It doesn’t really feel much different than when she was fifteen. She adjusts her school tie – green, unfitting, she still feels more suited to blue —and breathes.

* * *

 

Third year begins with a fresh wave of cherry blossoms and chair legs scraping wooden floors to a well-worn chorus of “good morning”.

Lunch break comes, the sound of girls’ chatter filling up the room like some reassuring constant without a palpable rhythm. Rin and Hanayo pull up their chairs at her table, the “ _let’s have lunch together!_ ” already having long settled into a wordless routine that mark “ _the only important hours of the school day that matter, nya!_ ”

“You know,” Rin says, one sleeve of her shirt hitched up and bunching at her left shoulder as she scoops up a portion of rice and fish. She prods at her serving of vegetables before dumping it in Maki’s lunchbox. “It’s all pretty fast, isn’t it?” She waves a free hand, chewing on a mouthful of her lunch while gesturing at the air around them. Hanayo, preoccupied with unwrapping her second rice ball, hums appreciatively.

“We’re seniors now,” she continues, wide-eyed. “ _Seniors_!” She whispers it loudly, as if it has importance, as if it means the world to them. “Can you believe it!”

She is excited, and Maki feels that energy radiating off her – it’s electrifying and stunning and rolling off in waves that could scarcely leave her breathless like she’s looking at the sun.

* * *

 

She does try to drop by and visit from time to time.

Hanayo busies herself with tutoring the new school idols. They are young, fresh-faced, and eager to learn, practicing their moves with such determination and zeal, so much so that it is reminiscent of many things but Maki doesn’t think of wanting to put a name to that feeling in her chest.

(“They’re thinking of going professional,” Hanayo had told her once. “Would you still—”)

The Idol Research Clubroom is still located on the first floor, though the posters and other paraphernalia have changed to stay updated with the latest trends. It’s bustling with even more activity now, the bubbly pop tunes blaring softly through the speakers and echoing down the hall.

The door is half-open, and Maki peers in.

“I just don’t get it, Hanayo-senpai!” One of the second years was saying, hands raised and held up in defeat, pouting at the somewhat crumpled piece of paper on the table in front of her.

“It’s not really that difficult,” Hanayo’s voice is gentle and kind, brimming with a quiet confidence that rings through. “Just follow the instructions on the paper. See?” She presses the folded sheet onto the table, ironing out its creases. She looks so at ease, so comfortable with her role of a real mentor on just about everything from idols to origami—the model upperclassman to their juniors.

One of the other members soon spots her. “Ah, Nishikino-senpai!”

Maki stops. It’s one of the new first years, Fukuhara, was it? She’s quickly making her way to the door, squeezing past the stacked chairs and scattered bags.

“I’ve got the, um,” Maki waves the folder in her hand, “The new song.”

The girl’s eyes light up. “Thank you so much! We’re really looking forward to it, Arisa-senpai said that it’s going to be a really cool ballad this time, maybe we’re splitting up some of the solo parts, and we’re all going to try our best to get the lead but—”

Maki nods, the words streaming past her, fading into the background with the rest of the clubroom’s noise. “Uh. Sounds good,” she manages, before craning her neck to check on Hanayo. “Is, um, is Hanayo free right now? Or—”

“Oh, we’re just having a break at the moment. Um, Hanayo-senpai!” Fukuhara gives her a shy smile. “Thank you for your time, Nishikino-senpai. We’re going to do our best with your song!”

Maki blinks. She’s still not used to this. In the corner of her eye, she sees Hanayo get up and wave a greeting by.

“Right. S-sure.”

* * *

 

 

Hanayo meets her out in the hallway, by the bulletin board next to the student council posters for the cultural fair committee. It’s strangely quiet.

 “I-it’s not something I’m used to,” she says, “Sorry.”

“Ah, no, it’s okay.” Maki rests her hands behind her back, leans against the wall because at least, it shows something. Collectedness, maybe.

“It’s nice of you to drop by though,” Hanayo continues, “We haven’t really seen you around lately, that’s all.” She sheepishly plays with the rubber band in her hands, her fingers turning in the familiar movements. Triangles, then a star, collapsing onto itself with a soft ‘twang’. “I mean, for club activities.”

“I’ve been really busy.” Maki pauses, then frowns at her own sorry excuse of a reason. “I haven’t really been a good vice-president, have I? Nothing compared to what you’ve done for the club,” she gives Hanayo a smile—she means it, genuinely—and picks up her school bag lying on the floor. “Nico-chan and Honoka would be more than proud.”

“W-what are you saying?” Hanayo’s bashful, even now, and tucks a loose hair behind her ear. “I’m still not as good as Nico-chan, even if I try…”

“Hanayo.”

“I know, I know. Still,” and Hanayo lets out a small laugh. “I just can’t help it.” She fiddles with the rubber band again, red turns and twisty knots in slow motion. Maki shifts on the spot, it’s not uncomfortable by any means—it’s _Hanayo_ —just odd, like all things in a new year, except they’re already more than a few months in and nothing feels as settled in as they should be.

“Uh, I should get going,” she starts, taking a few steps backwards, her bag dangling from two fingers. She gives a little wave. “Thanks, for, um. You know.”

“Oh! I-it’s not a problem!” Hanayo smiles. “I better head back, too.”

Maki nods, and finds herself returning the gesture with tightly pressed lips and a sense of somewhat increased self-consciousness. She thinks about the kind smiles and soft features that haven’t changed in forever, wondering if the same can be said for _her_ and her sun-kissed shoes, in flecks of orange as bright as the stars themselves.

* * *

 

Rin sends her a text, just as she’s heading for the school gate.

_!!!!maki-chan r u free im done in abt 15_

The lack of her liberal use of emojis isn’t strange by any means, more like a sign of preoccupancy rather than anything else. Maki considers typing back a reply, her finger lingering over lit-up buttons, but decides against having to be a cause of distraction for such a thing so small. Rin had complained to her, once, “We got yelled at by the new coach again, ‘cuz we took too long with our water breaks,” she said, “It’s horrible, nya. He’s even meaner than Maki-chan!”

 “What’s that even supposed to mean? I don’t make you run extra rounds around the track.”

“Exactly!” She’d nearly spilled her packet of soy milk at this point, “Maki-chan doesn’t make me run an extra five rounds just because I sent back pictures of the cat we found at the stands.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why,” Maki had told her, in between stealing a sip of her drink. She remembers it being a little less than chilly for mid-May, and that Rin didn’t chew her straw this time round. It’s funny, how these things stand out in silence—tapping fingers, crumpled worksheets, her hair that day—not exactly a clear recollection but brief impressions of the moment, pressing in around and flitting away by the time it takes her to breathe, leaving behind nothing but a nebulous trace of _something_.  

She might forget this, in passing.

* * *

 

 “Maki-chan!”

She turns around. It’s Rin, fresh from track practice. Her towel hangs loosely over her shoulder, the edges frayed and slightly smudged with dirt.

“Oh, Rin.”

She fidgets briefly on the spot, shifts her school bag from one arm to the other in hopes of distracting herself from the urge to twirl her hair. Rin’s tucked her shirt in only on one side, her hair mussed up and damp with sweat; she’s got a big sunshine smile on, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as she asks, “You didn’t reply to my text! Are you going home yet? Let’s walk together!”

Maki nods, a short jerk of her head, all too sudden. Somehow she feels bare and awkward in her neatly pressed uniform. “Wait, I’m going to cram school now, actually,” she corrects herself, wishing that she wouldn’t sound so stiff. Then again, this is Rin she’s talking to. It’s not like she wouldn’t understand.

“That’s ok! It’s still sort of on the way, right?” Rin says, grabbing the towel off her shoulder and wrings it between her hands, “I’ll go get my stuff first, okay?” and dashes off before Maki can even reply.

\--

The walk back is nothing short of ordinary. They fall in a comfortable pace, Rin always more than two steps ahead of her and maybe three steps back, heading sideways and left-ways to look at the leaves on the ground or the clouds in the sky. At least she’s not dragging her by the hand like most days, and Maki takes her time to amble along the sidewalk, slower than she normally would be.

“…Maki-chan?” Rin asks suddenly, stopping in front of her in the middle of the pavement. “Maki-chan, did you even hear a thing I was saying?”

“N-no,” she blurts out, startled, the words slipping from her mouth. “Not really.” Then, after a beat, “Sorry.”

Rin scrunches up her face for a moment in brief thought, the sort of look she has when staring down vending machine drink choices or differential equations. It’s cute, sort of, and Maki feels the corners of her lips tugging up in small smile. Maybe she doesn’t have to hide it.

“H-hey.”

The sun is just starting to set, painting the sky with the deep glow of orange and blues. It’s stupidly cliché. Wishful thinking, she tells herself. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, wound up in lingering mannerisms leading them to this moment, or was it the last, the one before, the many that have slipped past without the both of them knowing. It’s much too muddled up for her to think.

I dunno,” Rin says, “You seem a lot more spacey, lately.” She scratches the side of her cheek, looking past Maki’s shoulders and not meeting her eye.

“So do you.” The retort comes easily to her, rolling off her tongue without a second thought. It’s not as harsh as it could’ve sounded. _Could have_ , rather than _would have_ , the minute differences that count, she hopes.

“Can we talk?” she finds herself asking, “Just, talk. For a bit.” This isn’t like her, so direct and straightforward—she might be for other things, factual things, steel-cut criticism amongst others— not the intangible, ephemeral that leaves her feeling like she’s grasping at air. And yet it isn’t, not exactly, not when it’s the warmth that pools in her throat and easily makes its way to the tips of her fingers and toes, slowly but surely and so unequivocally.

“Maybe, I guess!” Rin lets out a nervous laugh. It’s sheepish but not really _that_ unlike her; she’s scratching her cheek again, rocking back and forth on her heels and shifting her weight from side to side. “Mm, but I’m not really sure actually! Rin’s not really good with these kinds of things,” she continues, wringing her hands, “Talking about, um…” She falters, lips twisted into a small frown before her eyes widen in realization and she fidgets briefly, “Are we’re talking about, Maki-chan, ah—”

As if the embarrassment wasn’t there already. Maki’s pretty sure her own ears are turning pink. “Y-you know what, never mind! We don’t actually have to, just that I thought we could, or we should, it’s something that I read about—” and she’s rambling, wishing so hard that she didn’t bring this up in the first place. It’s better off if she’d let Rin continue with whatever she was on about, anything but this, and it’s her own fault really, not paying any attention to her and thinking _this is it this is the moment_ but—

“I’ll try!” Rin chirps up suddenly, earnest and wide-eyed. She takes a step forward closer to her. “For Maki-chan, I’ll try!” Their eyes meet, and Maki swallows down the ball of nerves plucking beneath her skin, feeling unexpectedly braver than usual.

“I’ll…I’ll try too.”                               

* * *

 

“It feels like the end of the world, you know?” She sucks in a deep breath, feeling Rin’s hands (warm and rough, rougher than hers) grab her own. “Or maybe I’m over-thinking this, I mean,” she adds quickly, lacing their fingers together. It feels right, somehow.

Rin laughs. It’s a soft laugh, reminding her of all their walks home in the evenings and quiet nights under the stars.  

“I think Maki-chan worries too much, nya!”

Rin’s grip tightens over hers, and Maki is suddenly aware of how much sturdier the other girl’s hands are. She runs her thumb over the slight callous on Rin’s palm, counting the lines created in between the folds of where their skin meets.  

“Rin, I—”

Rin presses a kiss to her forehead and stays there; Maki feels the steady rhythm of her breathing against her chest, a rise and fall in a two-step count, slowing down and it’s just the two of them, staying still.

No rush.

“Maki-chan,” Rin says, nuzzling her hair. Her breath tickles, she shivers—despite it being almost thirty degrees out, the trees around them regaining the fresh green crisp in their leaves. Rin hums a note, it buzzes and rings like the chirps of the cicadas or the first note of a scale, waiting, hanging and leading on to the next.

“I like you!” and she says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I really, really, really like you!”

“… Oh.”

Rin laughs again, this time lighter, more relaxed. “Heh, Maki-chan’s really shy about this, huh?”

“You’re one to talk.” They’re still not moving from where they’re standing, the sun casting their shadows stretched out over concrete. Maki scuffs the ground with a heel, buries her nose against Rin’s shoulder. “You’ve told me that you like me already, last time. How’s this any different?”

“Because,” Rin tilts her head to press another kiss. It’s slightly more hesitant. “This time, um,” she pauses, and Maki can feel it in the way she tenses up and relaxes shortly after as if that never happened. “You know, Rin hasn’t really thought this through…”

Maki closes her eyes. “Geez, it doesn’t matter—”

“It’s supposed to be romantic! With the sunset and the cherry blossoms—”

Her heartbeat quickens, skips, the sort of feeling that she’s sure to be waxed lyrical about in the songs and poetries she’s composed for, of feelings of love and like and things that she still doesn’t quite understand. Yet, as a small part of her brain would say, and yet.

“There aren’t even any cherry blossoms,” is what she manages out, her voice lowered down to almost a whisper. “You’re really terrible at this, you idiot.”

“That’s awfully mean, Maki-chan,” Rin says, “You’re not exactly good at this either!”

“Liar.”

Rin shifts, giggling and titling her head away, “Maki-chan’s hair tickles!” and it’s almost as if nothing’s really changed. As if they were still two years younger with more time left together than they knew what to do with, a fresh simplicity hard to come by.

Maki takes a step back. They’re still holding hands, she realizes. “I’ll try not to worry,” she gestures lamely, squeezing Rin’s hand, “about all this.” Rin sticks her tongue out in response, before pulling her in closer with a rare shy smile and their foreheads clumsily bump together.

“Ahh, Rin’s getting kind of embarrassed if you’re gonna keep on talking like that…” She punctuates the sentence with a quick peck on Maki’s nose.

“You’re embarrassed? I’m the one saying half of these things,” Maki feels her cheeks heating up, and huffs. She’s flustered, chewing her bottom lip as her eyes dart downwards. Rin laughs again, and Maki looks up, seeing a big grin quickly spreading across Rin’s face so full of affection and tenderness that she can’t help but feel it too. Something warm blooms in her chest; it’s hard to pinpoint feelings when the _how_ still eludes her, much less the _when_ and _why_ , but she’s smiling in spite of it all, leaning in forward to close the gap between their lips.

It’s either _love_ and _like_ , somewhere in between both or maybe just all together. It’s dumb, Rin is dumb and she probably ( _really really honestly_ ) likes her just as much.

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually rly old!! im waving my hands feebly at the vagueness of some bits.  
> (ideally i wanted a slow burn but i lack the stamina to do so. lets all think abt rinmaki instead.)


End file.
